


Ready To Go

by orphan_account



Series: Always a Hurricane [2]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: ADHD, Anxiety, Depression, Dissociation, Gay Sex, Insomnia, M/M, Medication, Mental Disorder, P!ATD, Panic Attacks, Panic at the Disco - Freeform, Panic! at the Disco - Freeform, Self Harm, Smut, add, brallon, brallon smut, depersonalisation, derealisation, did, mental health, occasional smut, patd - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-01-26 07:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12552292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Part Two/Volume Two of "Always a Hurricane", the series in which Dallon Weekes is suffering with various mental health issues, while in love with Brendon Urie.





	1. A Break In Fairytale City

**Author's Note:**

> I advise reading the part one to this series before reading this! It's called "I'm the narrator and this is just the suicide note". It has 19 chapters that I have worked very hard on that I think you will enjoy, seeing as you have taken an interest in this work! If you are absolutely awesome and up to date with this story and have gotten to this point, thank you so much. Without further ado, ENJOY! :) x

Rest days on tour are the best days; that’s the saying.  
No, that’s bullshit, because the majority of the population of 7 billion people are not on tour, and never have been on tour. They’re so blind to this lifestyle and have selective vision, because they are so dead set on envying the alcohol, drugs and money that they just give us the palm in their heads and metaphorically say ‘don’t wanna hear it’ to how we need breaks.  
Despite all of that, rest days on tour are the best days; that’s the truth.  
I look to my left, to see Brendon just finishing up paying for two milkshakes at the counter, with that same friendly smile, big eyes, and returning to me in our booth.  
As he sits himself down in the booth, I tell him “You know, dairy is known for being something that singers should avoid.” and give him a little daring glare.  
“And you think I give a fuck because... ?” he sends me back the exact same glare that i gave him, the cheeky fucker.  
“I love you” I tell him.  
“I know you do” he says in turn and I raise my eyebrows. He waits a few seconds to see how I react and finally adds “I love you too, haha caught ya!”. He’s so dumb, my god I love him.  
“So, what are the plans for the rest of the day?” I ask.  
“Well, I was thinking, as we’re in New York, we could go ice skating in Central Park. Spencer and Ian are already down for it. It’s just a matter of convincing Zack.” He does come up with some good, but odd ideas, this one. I can understand, though, being it December, in the fairytale city. It’s just a bit uncalled for.  
“That sounds like good fun, but are you sure that’s safe? What if one of us break an arm. No more drums Spence then. No more bass for me. No more guitar for Ian.”  
“I guess y’all are just going to have to be careful then” he laughs, because of course he has nothing to worry about.  
-  
“HOLY FUCK” Zack says as he steps on the ice and immediately starts slipping. Spencer has to steady him whilst he tries to contain his laughter. Zack can be good for many things, and he’s really strong, but he’s just not made for the ice. We all find it incredibly hard not to cry with laughter at Zack.  
Brendon quickly skates up next to me, links with my arm and brings me along with him and I naturally follow on. As we’re skating, I look around us to see if anybody is looking and, no, everybody seems pretty focused on either not falling flat on their face, or showing off, so I decide to give his forehead a little kiss. His face instantly lights up.  
“You never told me you could like... actually skate. I always assumed that you were too tall and clumsy and what with growing up in Vegas...”  
“Correction: Salt Lake City. And nope, I can skate. There used to be an ice rink in my town and I’d go there every Saturday.”  
“Ahh I see.”  
Ian comes up next to us and starts skating at the same speed. “Dude, Zack is being so funny, I’m just scared he’s going to punch my lights out when we get off the rink”  
“Honestly same” I agree with him.  
“That’s kind of why we... gracefully skated away.” Brendon adds, chuckling inwards “I take it Ian is lumbered looking after him?”.  
“Yeah, he’s doing better now and Spencer said that he’s not all that fantastic at skating himself, so he doesn’t mind going a little slower. Anyway, what made you want to go skating today?”  
“It just sounded like a bit of fun! Don’t you think?”  
“Yeah, Bren! Anyway, I’ll catch you two later. I’m going to speed away in a very elegant fashion and let you two watch my afro bounce around in the crisp NYC air. Adios amigos.”


	2. Somebody Else

Well, the whole band has made it to the stage with all limbs still remaining; that’s a plus.

We’re currently in the middle of the set and a flashback from yesterday just occurred. Seeing Zack in a sling makes me feel somewhat victorious, and also makes an uncontrollable grin flash on my face.

Brendon stops talking to the audience and I can hear him saying the cue for I write sins. My attention is being instantly diverted back to the music and I find myself playing and playing to the end of the set without much thought at all.

When we get off stage, we go to sit down on the couch to cool off with some beers. Spencer is towelling his face, Ian is flexing his fingers and just as I go to look at Brendon he asks me “what was that huge grin for earlier onstage?” and smiles interestedly.

“The thought of Zack in a sling” I reply and we all just erupt into a bit of laughter while Zack flips me off.

Brendon gets up from his seat and I look at him with an inquisitive eyebrow raised. “Going to the other dressing room” he answers my question that I didn’t even have to ask and give me a look suggesting that I could come with him.

I follow him into the next room and we both spend the time in each other’s arms on the sofa, listening to a mixture of Sinatra, King Cole and Dave Brubeck. The guys understand that we need that time alone, just me and Brendon, like it usually is when we’re at home and not on tour. That’s why we have this. Our Tour Manager, Tony, has been informed of our relationship and has made sure that we’ve gotten rooms together for hotel nights, too. We don’t have to worry about blue balls or having to sneak off into a restroom to fuck each other.

The thought of telling any more people than we have already is a frightening thought. I couldn’t care any less about people’s opinions on our sexualities and I know for a fucking fact Brendon doesn’t care either, infact he flaunts it. I just fear this getting out to the press, officially, and the whole world finding out and what that would do to us as a band and how it could ruin our career and ultimately I would be the one to end up destroying Brendon’s career and life and making him feel upset because, god, I never ever want to see him upset, I hate it, I hate it, I hate it, my god I can’t do that to hi-

“D-dallon?” Brendon nervously stutters and shit, I’m hyperventilating and he’s here. He was in my arms, resting against my chest, my chest that is now rising and falling at a dangerous pace. I can’t even reply. I can only muster enough in this tornado that spinning around my body to freeze, keep my blurry gaze fixated on one spot and let the anxiety take me over. That’s right take me over. Just kill me. That’s what you do best. I give in.

“Dallon.“ Brendon says to me in a stern but distant voice. It sounds to me like it’s meant for somebody other than me. I’m in a foreigner’s body and it’s freaking me the fuck out. My throat is closing up. My windpipe is swelling and I can not fit enough air through to breathe, let alone formulate words.

My body’s natural response to this is to start coughing, try and open up the tightening hole in my throat. 

Brendon’s now a figure shadowing above me and I can’t tell what he’s saying or doing. Fuck if my brain won’t let me have his help than I’m absolutely done for. Please I just want to hear him. He crouches down in front of me and brings back our contact by placing his hands on my lap. This time it means everything more and I’m hyper aware of it. It’s bringing me out of me dissociative haze but I’m not panicking any less.

His voice suddenly comes back to me and I flinch. “Hey, hey Dall, can you hear me?” I furiously nod. “Okay Dallon, I’ve got you. Look around you, you’re in the dressing room. There’s a mini fridge over there, when you’re feeling better you can have a nice, cold Dr. Pepper. We can do anything you want. Do you want to leave? We can go outside, if you like.”

“Y-yes” I slightly squeak out, fairly inaudibly. However, Brendon understands and helps me and my trembling body up and takes me outside where we are greeted with the brisk, December, New York air and slight snow.

“Right, do you think you can take a deep breath now?” He asks me.

“Yes” I fit through my fast pace.

“Okay, do it with me. In...” he shows me with his fingers his counting, 1,2,3,4 “and out...” 1,2,3,4 “there you go. We’ll get there in the end I promise. Remember, it will never last forever. Come on, just stay with me Dall.”

I manage another 3 deep breaths between the hyperventilating and with each deep breath my breathing evens itself out a little more, just the slightest bit.

I’m finally at a point where I’m just coming down and I pull Brendon into a hug, desperate to just get to the end of this. 

“Baby, it’s okay. I’m so sorry you just had that awful panic attack. It’s over now, okay.” He tells me and give me a soft kiss on the lips. “Do you want that Dr Pepper now?” He expresses a small knowing smile and I return it.

“Yes please. Thank you Brendon, that was so horrible, I’m sorry you had to witness that and try so hard to help me. You don’t deserve that and I haven’t had a proper panic attack for so long.” I tell him as he goes over to get me that drink and comes back to hand it to me. 

I look down at the misty can, crack it open, watch the cold steam rise from the hole in the metal and breathe in through my nose and let it escape through my mouth. I take a long sip, noticing everything about it, from the taste, to the sensation of the low temperature can touching my warm mouth and the way the every fizz feels when it pops against my tongue. When I drag it away from my mouth, that is when I become aware that Brendon has had his brows furrowed and his eyes concentrated on his thumbs that he’s places between his teeth, taking the time to choose his words, which he is not known well for doing so.

“Dallon,” he begins “the last time I saw you like that...” he pauses. Maybe he’s rethinking his words. I take another sip, not wanting to rush him because I can tell that whatever it is that he has to say has an importance to him and his emotions. “The last time you had a panic attack like that, something happened. I don’t know if you remember now, but, you, you got a hold of the razor blades and you cut yourself. In front of me. I know that’s not what you did just now, but it reminded me of it and I’m scared if I don’t say anything it’s going to eat away at me.”

“Brendon, I am so sorry I ever put you through that. That is absolutely disgusting. I do not remember it happening at all and I must have been dissociating. Was I on any meds at the time I had that um... panic attack, dissociation, self harm... episode?”

“No it was the first panic attack you had when you were fully off your meds, before you started taking them again. That’s why you took them again; you kept dissociating.”

“But I’ve been off my meds again since before the start of tour, so it can’t be because of that.” I say, baffled.

“Maybe it’s just going to happen on the rare occasion. You have been doing quite well lately, so don’t let this affect you, okay?”

“Okay.” I agree with him.


	3. A Most Beautiful Ruby

Don’t let it get to you, Dall. Don’t let it get to you. I keep having to tell myself this when I get a little twinge of anxiety at the bottom of my stomach. Since I had the first panic attack in quite a while, yesterday, I’ve been in a bit of an anxious dream-like haze. I don’t know if anybody surrounding me has noticed this, but I assume that there has been talk amongst Brendon and the others about yesterday, only to keep me safe of course and so that they can look out for me. And one of the new tour rules we have, is that there are no big dirty secrets. No hiding. In a relationship? Don’t make it into some secret affair on the band. Planning on killing yourself? Why, you must tell everybody, of course.

It’s not like keeping secrets is that easy on this bus. Hell, I have no idea how I eventually got so good at it, last tour. In the end, I clearly was not that damn talented, because all you have to do is just take a look at where I am now. I wouldn’t change it one bit, however. There was something amazing that came from my tragedy I brought onto this bus and into that note. I confessed not only my troubles, but also the love I was in and still am.

No secrets, I tell myself.

Blood finally starts trickling down my thigh and I place the pin down on the rim of the perfect white sink. 

It’s time for soundcheck in half an hour and I have just enough time to cut and come back without anybody wondering where I am. I glanced around at my surroundings with the perspective of an outsider, as if I had a birds eye view, and everyone seemed pretty pre-occupied with setting up the stage and getting shit ready. That was when I decided to give in to that burning temptation, after the idea of blood running down my skin was unintentionally gifted to me by Brendon. He can’t find out that it was him that reminded me of- 

No. Brendon won’t find out. He won’t find out that I cut myself at all. He doesn’t need to because it’s harmless. It’s not going to become anything more. Maybe I’ll just cut myself only a few times, just to get through the tour. When we’re back home I’m sure I’ll find some other thing to do.

I’ve finished cleaning up my leg and the pin now. I’m just going to slide the pin right back into its little hiding place in the bathroom, unlock the door and stroll back down to the venue. Say I went for a walk. Say I went back to the bus to freshen up a bit.

“Hey, where have you been?” He asks me as he passes me my guitar on the stage.

“Nowhere special. Just went back to the bus to freshen up a bit.”

“Everything okay?” It’s the first time I go to do this, go to cut myself, start a tiny secret for myself and he’s already questioning me. 

I nod and smile convincingly, and he takes the bait. Luckily, cutting myself makes me feel quite better, so my smile really is going to be convincing, i guess.

It’s as if we’re going by default after sound check. We listen to some music, hang out for a bit, dance around. We get dressed and ready. We get out there, play our songs. We go back to the dressing rooms. We go back to the bus, and this time, we’re heading to a new state. We’re heading for Pennsylvania.


	4. Butterflies and flying away

“Fuck” I hiss under my breath as I pull on my pants as quickly as I can in the dark of the hotel room. The fabric grazes against the 5 wounds on my thigh that I’ve been collecting over the past three weeks.

“What?” Brendon asks, still lying in bed, not willing enough to get up yet after the tiresome three rounds of sex we had last night. Yeah, we like to make the most out of hotel nights when we get them.

Let me think of a joke to cover it up, hmm... “sore ass, B” I tell him, resulting in a volcanic eruption of laughter inside of him. It feels good to make him feel good, even if I’m lying. That’s what comedy really is though, isn’t it? It’s not the truth; it’s either a lie or exaggeration. Life isn’t really that funny. 

“Why are you getting dressed in the dark?” My god, this man does like to inquire. Put me to the test.

“It’s dark? Oh yes, that is correct. It is infact... dark.”

“Ummm... okay?”

“Okay.”

“I guess I’ll get dressed too. In the light.”

“Okay.”

This is awkward. This is not harmless. The cutting is not harmless, I was wrong. Maybe I should stop.

-

Stop! Stop! Stop! Dallon! You idiot! You lose anymore blood and you’re going to pass out! My god I can’t stop I just want to see more blood. Everytime the bleeding stops and it starts to bead up, I feel the urge to reopen and restart the gush. I really need to -

“Dallon are you okay in there, buddy?” It’s Spencer. 

“Yeah, sure.” I pause “yeah.” My god go away, please.

“Okay” he simply replies, maybe my whole ‘leave me alone’ vibe can travel through locked toilet doors and walls of dirty tour buses. 

I rush to clean my leg, and follow the same old ritual I’m adopting. Finally I’m back out with the guys, in the lounge of the bus. There’s no awkward questions or gazes, thankfully. Maybe they thought I was just having a bit of a panic attack and trying to deal with it myself, not taking a huge shit, or more importantly making myself bleed.

The weeks are becoming a blur. I’m cutting, I’m performing, I’m hanging out, I’m fucking, I’m just doing your stuff. It’s when I have the time to reflect where I see time pass by and get a little bit of insight. 

The cutting is sadly becoming a problem, unlike how I thought it would go. I’m becoming dependent on it and it’s making me do it in the most inconvenient times, in the most inconvenient places and makes it inconvenient for my relationship with Brendon. He hasn’t seen my legs in the light for probably three months.

“Dallon, no don’t turn off the lights” he tells me as we get into our new hotel room, ready to fuck.

“W-why?” Oh god, why???

“I want to see you. I want to see your face when I push inside of you and I want to see your gorgeous body. I don’t know why, but I haven’t seen that for so long?”

“Well... maybe I wanted to be the one to fuck you tonight... did you think about that? So maybe it’s my rules. The dominant one makes the rules. Tonight you deserve a good fuck from me and I want to fuck you in the dark because it feels good” nice save, Dall, nice save.

“Well when you say that, I don’t give a fuck what I can see as long as I know you’re inside me and I can feel it and hear you.”

“That’s my boy” I tell him. 

-

Time for sex again. Fuck yes, oh my god, he’s basically dragging me back into the room, I love it when he really really wants it. It suits him.

He opens the door as fast as he can and switches on the light- 

No, no, no, no, no.

Oh my god there’s no getting out of this one. Maybe he wants it so much that he won’t even notice.

I take off my pants and boxers, while he does the same and we watch each other with want and as a way to get hard, it’s a start. I see him glance over the form of my dick and I swear he does a double take.

“Dallon” his voice wavers. Not right now, please. In fact, never. “Dallon, put your pants back on.” He tells me as he does so himself. I know why he’s saying this, so I don’t object. Don’t act confused, just pull my jeans bag over my long, defeated legs. “Please, tell me what the fuck those red lines were on your thigh?” There’s a bite to his words.

“Th-they... they weren’t supposed to be seen... by you or, or anyone for that matter.” That’s all I can say and it’s stupid.

“No” he has the look on his face that reads: ‘this can not be happening’. “No, Dallon. You did not cut yourself.” He’s in a state of shock and denial.

I can’t do anything but detach myself, no panicking, just pure detachment.

“Why?” He asks, sounding so hurt. I cant just leave him, no that’s even worse. It’s selfish to just detach myself.

“I... you know what? I actually don’t know Brendon.” I tell him because I am not going to give him any bullshit or any lies. Straight up truth has always been our thing and I’ll make sure it always will be.

“Well have you been depressed?!”

“I don’t... no I haven’t.”

“Then tell me what the fuck is going on!”

“I DONT KNOW”

“Dallon, I’m sorry I need to go. I need to get some air.” Before I know it he’s gone. What if he goes for good? What if that’s the final straw that just ended our relationship? He really does not want to have to put up with this and completely rightfully so.

No, no hypothetical thinking. Whatever happens, happens, when it happens. However, that doesn’t change that I feel like the most horrific monstress man to be known. I need to explain this to him, I know that. The shock of him finding out just made my brain close itself off a bit, not allowing me access to think correctly, or access fact.

Why did I cut myself then? I cast my mind back to when I first started cutting this tour. Memories of creating the first wound on a blank page, starting a story of tragedy. William Shakespeare would be proud, I’m sure.

What caused it!? I still can’t fucking remember. I’m such a wreck, I’ve got my head in my hands and I’m pulling at my hair. I’ve made my boyfriend cry and he’s flead from the room.

On cue with my thought of him, he’s now slowly opening the door and our eyes meet. I can’t maintain eye contact, not with those poor beautiful eyes, now ruined by me, made puffy and red and wrecked. “I’m sorry” it’s what I need to tell him. He’s seemably calmer now that he’s gone somewhere for about half an hour. That’s enough time for him to have done a lot of things, he could have gone to talk to Spencer, or maybe Zack, or maybe he really did just go and get some air. Who am I kidding he did not go and get some air, for fucks sake Dallon grow up.

“Dallon,” he begins “is... is it my fault? It’s my fault. I’m sorry. Dallon I know it’s my fault. I never intended for you to-“

“How the fuck is it your fault?” I interrupt him because I can’t have him worry himself like that. He’s working himself up. “It was my fault. It’s so obviously my fault Brendon how can you not see that. I was the one who got that fucking pin and dragged it into my skin and caused blood to come out. It was my decision, my stupid stupid decision.”

“Please stop, that is so horrific. Don’t ever speak that grafficaly. I don’t care what’s gotten into you, I don’t ever want to be given a visual of you hurting.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. Please just tell me you can see that I’m sorry because I am unbelievably sorry.” I don’t think I used the word sorry enough and that is not even sarcasm. I am SO sorry.

“I want you to really think about this, are you actually sorry?”

“OH MY GOD ARE YOU BEING SERIOUS. I’m so sorry. Sorry beyond words. I never ever want to see you upset. That’s the worst thing in the world. Sometimes I just feel like I’ve taken the most beautiful and happy boy and crashed in love with him. Not fell, crashed, because I came down and hit your life like a meteor. I took the happiness that I feel in love with and I turned it into sadness. It’s so selfish and all I ever want to do is avoid making you upset. When you’re upset it’s like a thunderstorm. You don’t deserve it.”

“I don’t think you understand how much you actually make me feel better. You make me feel like a better person. I don’t feel like an absolutely awful, rude, hated dick, when I’m around you. Take who I was when I was in a relationship with Ryan. I was in love with him sure, but on both sides of the relationship we were crashing and burning. It was like a competition on destruction. Who could destroy each other the most. We went round and round in circles, avoiding each other then coming closer than ever before and it became a cycle. And at that time I did not feel like a good person. I felt awful about myself. But, when I’m with you I don’t. I feel like I have some sort of control, but with the same intense feeling of love and comfort and still I get butterflies. I feel like I’ve done something right, with you. You are so beautiful and you make me and everyone laugh and if it means fighting your demons with you, it is so worth it because you are an amazing person.”

“Brendon I don’t even know what to say after that” I choke on a sob and rush over to him to pull him into an embrace. “I love you, fuck”

He pulls me back after a while and asks again “really Dallon, what was going through your mind that’s making you do that to yourself?”

I need to be honest but I can’t have him think that it’s his fault “I just... I remembered cutting myself and something made me want to do it again” I’m getting so exhausted as we speak.

“Look, I know you’re getting tired and so am I. How about we get some rest and we sort this out tomorrow. I’ll help you, I promise.”

“Okay, Brendon” we take our clothes off until we’re in just our boxers and just as I rest my head on the pillow, we share a long and soft kiss.

I know what he means about still getting the butterflies.


	5. Kiss While We’re Far Too Young To Die

“That does not make it your fault Brendon! You have to understand me when I tell you this. Your mental health is just as important as mine and you needed to get off your chest how you were feeling and what that panic attack reminded you of. The first person people tell and trust is their lover. The one closest to them. I don’t blame you at all. There’s just something in my head that obsesses over certain things and you can’t change that and I don’t expect you to tread on eggshells around me.”

I swear I just heard him faintly mutter to himself “why the fuck did I not just speak to Spencer” under his breath.

“Hey! Listen to me! Do not blame yourself and maybe just take in what I just told you?” I’m going now. Not that I have anywhere to really go other than the other dressing room. Maybe I should just wait for this conversation to end like a normal adult.

“Okay.” He sighs out and I’m unsure of what to make of that, so I’m not going to make anything out of it. Case open, case shut.

-

“Well I never really thought that you’d come tonight, when the crown hangs heavy on either side” Brendon’s singing in his mesmerising and powerful voice to the audience and it just hits me, the familiarity of the lyrics of this song. I swear to god he’s thinking the same because as the words “give me one last kiss while we’re far too young to die” gracefully dance off of his tongue, he comes over to me and places a kiss into my hair and the song ends. It’s a great song to end the set with, leaving the audience with a good message, and the music does kind of give off the vibe of it being the last song for some reason.

The gesture is really sweet of him, considering our... disagreement(?) earlier. I was growing anxious on whether I had upset him and whether I was going to even share a kiss goodnight with him. It’s pathetic really, but he’s just erased some of my worries.

“Brendon, your vocals tonight were incredible.” I tell him because he seriously pulled some amazing stunts with his lungs. The high notes in casual affair gave the whole crowd and the band and the crew goosebumps, assured.

“Dude, I agree!” Zack adds and Brendon smiles in a way that we can read as a ‘thank you’.

We all go to get waters and sit to rest on the sofas. Not much talking’s going on. We’re all a bit knackered - Brendon to say the least. We put on a good show tonight, professionally speaking and the audience seemed to agree.

Something about letting water glide down your throat slowly is so satisfying. It’s as though you’re cleansing your throat, essentially. Water is so pure and sometimes I forget that about 10 mini plastic cups that you usually find at the dentist isn’t really enough to fulfill hydration levels. Sometimes I even find that I dissociate more when I’ve had a real lack of water. Mental note: drink more. 

Hang on... have I just been sat staring at a cup of water for about ten minutes? I quickly look up to see if anybody has noticed and of course, Spencer, the most observant of all is now giving me a shit-eating grin. Middle finger it is to you, you ass-hole.

Fuck, that’s embarrassing.

-

“You know... the lyrics to Far Too Young are actually so beautiful.” I tell him, now that we’re the last two awake in the lounge of the bus. 

“Thank you, Dallon. I really appreciate it.” He says and I know when he really is taking a compliment because he respects my opinion. I don’t let my perspective be biased. I fell in love with him for a reason. “You know... I don’t know if you already figured this out... but, I wrote that song for you.” I always kind of questioned it, I guess, subconsciously but never enough to ask.

“That is really sweet of you, B. Thank you for writing such gorgeous lyrics in the name of me.”

“It really is how I feel about you. Nearly ever metaphor. The whole allegory.”

“I see what you did there. Allegory.” I wink.

“You have to throw in a bit of comedy everywhere don’t you, I swear to god.” He rolls his eyes.

“Well it’s what I do best, of course. But really, that is genuinely beautiful.“

He smiles.

“I think we should go to our bunks now.” He tells me and he’s right. We need the rest.

“Mkay, goodnight.” I tell him and we share that kiss that I was earlier unsure we would.


	6. Big ‘Ol Wale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SMUT WARNING. Skip this chapter if you don’t like smut.

“Morning, guys” I greet everyone in the lounge of the bus. The only person still in their bunk is Ian. He loves sleep. I’m nodded at, in reply to my greeting by a few and I help myself to the kettle and coffee beans - everybody’s blood.

“Two hours till Michigan” calls out one of the roadies from the front of the bus. 

“Cool! Thanks” Brendon calls back. “Just one show for Detroit, then we’re heading straight for Chicago.” He reminds us.

“No hotel tonight then?” I can’t even remember, although we’re most obviously not staying in a hotel, I’m now realising.

“Nope” he simply replies. Damn it. He better not fuck with me on stage tonight because there’s no way we’re risking fucking in a dressing room. I’m not fucking him in a dirty toilet, either.

-

Yeah, we’re fucking in a toilet. It’s not dirty, but it’s not convenient. When it comes to him, I could fuck him in a lot of places. We both give into impulsion, that’s a given. It never will get the better of us though. We’re careful, but daring enough to get a thrill out of the things we do. The thrill he gives me is the best big.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks between hushed moans. He’s got my pants pulled down to my ankles and my ass tight around his moving fingers. 

“I’m thinking about this Brendon, it’s hot.”

“Mmm. You think a lot.” He tells me just as he hits my prostate with his fingers and it feels amazing. 

“I do” I say after I’ve quickly recovered.

“Why don’t you let me just take care? Why don’t you let me shut the fuck up out of your mind, okay babe?” And without further ado, he’s pulling on a condom and is about to enter me.

He pushes in and I press all my weight into the wall. I’m trying so hard to keep quiet and then I remember that we’re on a different floor to the guys. I let out an “ahhh” that I didn’t know I was going to let out and Brendon starts becoming more and more vocal.

“Come on B, go on, god, that feels good” he responds to me, quicking up his pace. He’s going in-out-in-out-in-out-in-out-FUCK I can feel him add a little twist and I want to scream, it feels amazing. Just as I’m on the edge, he pulls out and comes straight back in at the same speed, adding more twists. An “Ah, ah, ah, ohhhhh” comes from Brendon’s wide open mouth.

“Pull my hair” I tell him, whimpering. He tugs at the strands and it tips me right then and there. It always will. ”Ahhhh, shit, yes, yes, yes, yes ,yes” Whilst I’m coming, I do my best to help Brendon get his condom off and I take him into my mouth to finish him off. He’s patient enough to be able to hold back for the best bit, he once told me. I make sure I cover him in enough saliva to make him wetter than the girls who come in their panties when they see Brendon come on stage. It’s not long until he’s releasing into my mouth and I take it in, with some of the sweet stuff landing on my lips. “Do I taste nice” he asks, like I haven’t sucked his cock plenty of times before. 

“Of course you do.” It is the truth, it’s an honour to have him in my mouth.

“Let me have some” he says and he dives in for a long hard kiss, tongue tracing every inch of my mouth, mine searching his. He seals it by licking the outside of my lips.

I place my hands on the small of his back, near his hips and he lets out a content sigh. 

“Beautiful.” I tell him.

He stares at me and smiles, breathing evening out. A more mischievous smile creeps up on him and he goes to kiss my cheek. He then moves his mouth to my ear and whispers “you can get off again, can’t you?” Well if you’re going to be that charming, then of course. I nod. 

It’s as though I can feel him smile against my skin. He gives my ear the tiniest lick and now he’s moving his head down to return the favour, which I far from expect from him. I need him to know that, “bren, bren, you don’t have to” I tell him. I’m already feeling guilty.

“Don’t be stupid. I’m Brendon Urie and I love cock. Now, be quiet.” Well then. He’s not wrong. I’ll hush.

He starts by slowly pushing my cock into his mouth and I shudder a bit. This will take some getting used to. I could get used to this. Fuck, I could. This feels pretty good. He’s all hands and mouth and I love it. He licks my shaft and starts sucking at my head, following a sequence until he finds it’s time to lick the slit and drive me insane. My god. I’m coming. I’m coming a lot, considering I’ve been fucked up the ass already. He’s taking me in so well, fuck.

When we’re done, I fall back and Brendon comes back up to join my level. I initiate this time, making out with him, using every last bit of energy in me. He has a blissed out look in his eyes and I must have the same. This really is amazing.

-

Judging on a couple of the looks we’re receiving as we walk back to the dressing room, maybe be were a bit obvious to some people. I look to Brendon, who is still by my side and he’s got a little bit of a warm pink tone to his skin. I must look the same, but far less attractive. So what. At least we were considerate enough to ensure they didn’t hear. It was so fucking worth it. Just the thought makes me smile.

“Right time for a quick head-count.” Tony says to nobody in particular. He mime-counts everyone in the room and finally “Okay guys, listen up, let’s head back to the bus now? You’ve all got 15 minutes to be there else we’re going to Chicago without you.”

“Hey, remember the time we actually left Ryan and Jon in Colorado because they got caught up rug shopping.” Brendon starts chuckling and we all join in. I never met the fuckers, but that is very amusing. Spencer seems to find this the funniest of us all and is now hitting his knee, with silent laughter, resembling a funny big ol’ wale.


	7. kiss, touch, not fuck

Ian and I make it to the bus just in time and as soon as we get there, Zack gets in too and closes the door behind us. I take it we’re the last ones.

10 minutes before we had to be at the bus, Ian told me he wanted to show me some cool place he found in the venue and of course I didn’t say no. He’s a pretty crazy fucker, unpredictable at first. He likes to fuck around and go to the most random of places and I’m definitely appreciative of that. It’s rad. 

It took about ten minutes to get there (that’s our bus time out the window), and it was totally worth it. We were fronted with a huge space underground, where they stored all the broken instruments, ancient amps, and other memorabilia that would only be appreciated by true musicians and fans of music. It felt like every single show ever played at the venue compiled into one room. The idea was breathtaking and Ian could tell that’s exactly what I was thinking because he gave me a knowing grin.

When Tony tells us they’ll leave without one of us if we don’t get there in 15 minutes, he really means he’ll send out a search party if we’re not there after an hour. It’s not like it was back in then, when they left Jon and Ryan. That’s why it doesn’t surprise me now we’re walking through the bus, half an hour later than planned, without a question.

“Hey babe” Brendon says to me as I take a seat next to him.

“Hey”

“You and Ian have fun?”

“Yeah, he showed me the cellar of the venue where they kept all the old and broken instruments. It was fucking awesome.”

“I bet! Damn, I wish I came. Don’t tell me there was a Bowie guitar down there.”

“I don’t know” I tell him and he shrugs his shoulders indifferently. 

“Do you want to do something for the ride? It’s gonna be a long one.” Oh no, thanks for that, Brendon.

“Sure, what do you want to do?”

“We could all play poker if you want.”

“Okay,” I reply to him. “Hey, guys we’re going to play poker, come join if you want.” I call out.

Touring does get a bit boring at times and Brendon refuses to let himself reach boredom. He will always find something. He’s a little bitch when he is bored, so it’s good that he does his best to avoid it.

“You deal first Dallon” Brendon tells me and I do so. 

The game passes by quickly and Brendon loses quite a bit and so do I, to be honest. Zack and Spencer are really good at poker because they are good at composing themselves, however Brendon and I are really emotional, honest people, and aren’t used to the concept of otherwise. He can see through me and I can see through him. We’re kind of making each other lose. Brendon is doing worse though, because he has no filter. It’s reassuring knowing that your lover is not good at poker, because you know you’ve not got a liar on your lap.

“Well, aren’t I just bawling!” Spencer says, waving his money in our faces. Well duh, you’re in Panic! At The Disco. I smile at him because seeing him happy is always a good sight.

“No fair” Brendon says and frowns like a little kid. Fucking hell he’s so adorable and beautiful and it’s so hard to resist-

No. Just hold his pretty little hand instead.

I lace my fingers into his and tell him “don’t worry, we can be shit at poker together.”

He laughs “we’re going to have a great future then, aren’t we.” His sarcasm is always rare, but I love it. I’m definitely one for sarcastic humour, as-well as offensive, I’m not afraid to admit.

I want to say ‘only the best’ and touch his lips with mine, but I can’t. I can later. Wait no, we’re in a bus.

-

We can kiss. We can touch. We can’t fuck, but each other’s presence is enough.

Brendon and I are subconsciously growing a habit of making sure we’re the last ones up. We miss being alone together, for sure.

“Pretty long ride then, huh.” I say to fill in the silence for no reason, really.

“Yeah, we’ll be there as soon as we’re back awake though. And then we’ll have two shows, and then we’ll be off the the next state.”

I hum in agreement.

He suddenly asks me, “Can I see your legs? Please, Dall.” I feel my pulse stop and my heart sink to the bottom of my stomach. I don’t like this. “Please, just let me see them.” He says in a somehow loving voice.

I slightly pull down my jeans, just so that he can see the cuts and I’ve never felt more uncomfortable.

He inspects them. When he’s done, he carefully pulls them back up for me and wraps his arms around me briefly to place a little peck of a kiss on my neck.

“I promise I’ll take care of you for the rest of this tour, I swear to god” 

“Brendon, it’s really okay.” I need to reassure him.

“How many times have you cut yourself since I found out?” 

We both find our throats closing up, I’m pretty sure.

“Um... t-twice” god damn it why did I have to stutter.

He pauses for a while. “Okay” he finally says. “What can we do to get this to stop Dallon? It’s really not a good thing, you know.”

“I know.” I sigh.

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re happy, you’re safe and you’re in my arms and you know that, so why do you do it? We need to get to the bottom of this.”

“Impulse” I get an impulse to do it.

“But why? Why is that impulse there?” That’s a rather good question.

“Maybe just because... it’s something deep rooted in me to self destruct and deprecate. Maybe I should work on that.”

“Yes, you should. But, you can do it. I know you can if you just try hard enough and you’ve got all of my support. Just think about how you can make sure you deal with the impulsive thoughts.”

“Okay, Bren, I’ll try.” I’ll try, but I’ll get nowhere.


	8. My Favourite Place Is The Warm Embrace Of Holding Your Hair Back In A Bathroom Stall

Chicago, Illinois. Two shows, two days in a row. I’m feeling pretty optimistic, for a pessimist like me, that is, anyway. We always play well in Chicago and I’m surprised we didn’t even schedule three shows to be honest. The audiences always seem to be the best there, for us.

Tonight we’re playing with Fall Out Boy, as we collectively decided to do a joint show. There’s a big connection between us and those guys and what better place to do a show with them than their home town.

We’ll be there in just a few minutes, meeting the guys, getting ready, hanging out before their set and then we’ll have our set and...

“We’re here!” The roadie driving us exclaims.

Following each other out, we make our way to the venue through the staff doors as we’ll be meeting some of the fans tomorrow at the meet and greet anyway.

I believe that is Patrick’s extremely short body I can see from afar.

Ah, yes it is! He’s now turned to face us and is also accompanied by the rest of the band.

We now are exchanging greetings of “hello”, “hey man!”, “dude it’s been too long”, high fives, back pats, fist bumps and the whole lot.

I’m probably the only one finding this a bit awkward.

Well, duh.

“Hey, Dall! How you doing?” Pete’s now talking to me.

“Hey man, I’m good. You?”

“Great, yeah I’m good.” Pete and I have a lot more in common than you’d think at first glance. At first glance you think ‘shit, is that dude a giant or is that other dude a midget?’. 

“So, you wanna come see the dressing rooms?” Pete’s now adressing all of us. We agree and follow his lead.

“Neat!” Wow, it’s exactly that. They decided to give us the foundation room.

“I know! We’re good friends with the owners of The House Of Blues here, so we managed this!” Patrick’s now exclaiming in excitement and Andy is smiling away as he always does.

There’s VIP booths covered in detailed Victorian patterned fabric, a juxtaposing extremely modern sound system, a large bar that I am certain we will be using and also a lounge seating area.

Brendon is the first one to race over to turn on some music and I’m not even mad, I trust his taste. I do prefer Oingo Boingo and Ben Folds Five, but his taste is still pretty good, nonetheless. His love for Journey, though? No thanks.

I search for conversation and realise that everybody seems too far in one for me to just butt in. I’m going over to Brendon.

“Hey Bren,”

“Hey, Dall. You excited for tonight?”

“Fuck yeah! God it’s going to be great.”

“Definitely. Those guys are always the best fun.” He glances over to Pete and Joe, for reference.

“When is their set, do you know?”

“In about three hours I believe. They’ve got soundcheck now, but I think they don’t really give a fuck.” Right when those words come out of Brendon’s mouth, a roadie comes in to inform them they need to go. 

This time they actually do so.

-

“Chicagoooo!” Brendon screams out to the crowd and sparks up a huge reaction.

“Hello you beautiful people” I add.

“We’re Panic! At The Disco and this is one of our new songs, This Is Gospel” Brendon continues and we all start playing. We play and play and play and talk quite a lot too.

That was a fucking good set.

“Dude! That was wild” Pete says to us when we come of stage because he’s Pete. That’s just something Pete would say. I don’t even know.

“Thanks Buddy” Brendon replies for us. He and I then go to get changed in an actual dressing room and come back to the real room where all the shit’s going down.

I find myself with a glass of Vodka and coke in one hand and a joint in the other. I don’t even smoke weed. Well, now you do, Dall. 

Brendon does actually smoke weed occasionally when we’re at home. Something about anxiety. I don’t know. You’d think it intrigued me, but I’m not buying that bullshit. I’ll only ever do shit to have a crazy time. 

I pass the joint on after I take my hit and take a swig of my drink.

Joe and Pete are both on cocaine I’m presuming and Patrick’s just on drinks. I don’t know about Andy. Pete and Joe aren’t coke heads, I know that for a fact, this is just a bit of rock and roll fun. Brendon will probably be on the cocaine too at some point, looking at the way this night is going. He did it one night on our last tour, mine and Ian’s first with Panic!, and it was absolutely hillarious. It made him go crazy as fuck.

Talking of, Brendon’s now pulling me into one of the booths. “Hey” Why is he saying hey? We were just with each other.

“Um... hi?” A bit of a burst of laughter comes out of me that I wasn’t expecting. That’s actually quite funny.

“Look, I wanna ask you... do you mind if I do some cocaine tonight? Don’t worry if you don’t want me to, I get it completely”

“Why would I mind? It’s totally up to you what you do or take. Just have a good time!” I tell him, slightly confused.

“Okay, okay. Thanks. Well it’s, you know, I just, I don’t want you to have a panic attack and me not be able to help. If you do, you know Spencer will help you, he’s just having a few drinks and a bit of weed. Shit like that won’t get to him apart from make him oddly happy.” 

Okay, that makes sense now. I’ll be fine, though. “Okay, B, no I’ll be okay.”

“I know, I know, just take care of yourself?” 

My god. “Okay Mom.”

“Hey!! I’m just being thoughtful.” He giggles and runs off to go get coked up.

I’m becoming more and more hammered as the night‘s going on and Pete’s now dragging just me out to some club where he says they play trippy music and HELL YEAH.

Pete’s right. This place is stunning. Damn.

“Woah” I say, unsure whether it’s the scenery or the weed or the vodka or all three. I think Pete’s giving be a knowing look. I don’t know everything’s slightly blurry. Still, the neon lights look like pretty bright colourful dots and the music probably makes it far better.

Pete grabs me by the arm and pulls me into the best time. He’s so much fucking fun, I need to spend more time with him! I don’t care what he’s on, he’s mad and I love it.

“Yo, so you and B fucking for real then?” This is his way of asking if my relationship with Brendon really is serious.

“Yeah dude!” A wicked smile is now creeping on my face.

“That’s so awesome!! You know, I’ve always, always said Brendon’s gay. I knew it the day I met him and Ryan. And Spencer and Brent. Those two fuckers sat too close to each other to be straight.”

“I know” I laugh “you’re basically his gay dad of guidance. Wait, so are you gay or bi?”

“Bi. But I say bye bye to anyone other than my Patty Cakes.” He slaps his knee and is nearly in hysterics. “Shit!!! Don’t tell him I called him that!” He adds. I get the impression Patrick most likely hates that nick name. Who wouldn’t. I can literally picture him getting all red and embarrassed. Aw.

Thinking about it, I don’t know how to make Brendon embarrassed. There’s no room for shame in that man. 

“Pat and I never got serious until we let ourselves. Translation: it took a long time for him to let himself fuck me and admit he wanted to, and it took me a couple women to figure out they weren’t Patrick.”

“That’s sweet dude, haha.”

“I know. You know what’s sweet? Pat.” He pauses “I’m not taking ‘bout his cum by the way” Oh my god. I facepalm and laugh for the millionth time this night.

-

“Yeah, he’s only thrown up once so you might want to make sure he doesn’t go to bed just yet” Spencer informs me as he hands the responsibility of Brendon over to me.

I swipe the room key on the handle of our door and let the two of us in with my other arm around him to keep him steady. 

“Dall, baby what you doing?” He slurs.

“Taking care of you” I reply and rub his back in a friendly way.

“Oooh does that mean you’re going to give me a blow job or fuck me up the ass?” Bless him, he’s so wasted and confused and horny.

“If I fucked you, you’d throw up again.”

“Awwww man. Blow job then?”

“Same would happen. As much as I’d love your dick in my mouth, if you orgasmed, you would vomit.”

“No fair” he strops.

“Tomorrow. I’ll fuck and suck you tomorrow morning, good and proper.”

“YAY!” He yells and immediately runs to the toilet. Oh no.

I have to hold his fringe back and stay by his side the whole time he’s throwing up. Such a warm embrace.

I think he’s finally done. He’s struggling to get anything else out at all, so I sit him upright on the bed and get a glass and fill it up with water from the sink in the bathroom. I hand it over to him and tell him to sip it slowly, so he does.

“You must have had a fucking awesome night!” I tell him and he laughs, slightly sobering up.

“Fuck yeah!” He says enthusiastically and clutches onto his stomach straight after with regret.

“You’re funny” he really is. “Now, bed time” I joke as if he’s my little kid because at times he does act like it.

“Okay” he whines, but as soon as he snuggles into the sheets next to me and I flick off the lights, he’s a goner. I’m slowly drifting too.


	9. Oh My God

We did Chicago all over again.

This time, we played at the Chicago Theatre and had yet another really great set.

I fucked Brendon this morning, as promised and I fucked him so hard. I hope he actually enjoyed it as much as he claimed to. He got off four times and I absolutely exhausted him, so he did a lot of resting today to recharge for the show. It’s quite amusing, just the thought.

We’ve said our goodbyes to Pete, Joe, Andy and Patrick and we’re now on our way to the next state in the bus.

“Where are we going next?” I ask because I’m always clueless on where we’re going.

“Wisconsin” Spencer replies. 

Brendon’s resting his voice now because of the throwing up yesterday and the singing from the show earlier tonight “You okay Bren?” I say just to be nice and check up on him. Let him know I care. He nods and smiles a little too. Good.

 

Oh my god.

 

 

Oh my god.

 

No.

 

Fuck I don’t feel real. 

I can’t just fucking get out of the bus, can I!? No. No, I can’t. We’re moving. Fuck oh my god what do I do? I’ve never had derealisation in a bus! 

Let me think, oh my god. Just oh my god. I don’t know what else to even think apart from oh my god.

“Bren? Bunks? Now?” That’s all I can do. I flee to the bunks area as quickly as I can without looking rediculous.

Of course I look rediculous. I feel so rediculous.

“Dallon? Dallon, what’s wrong?” Brendon’s caught up with me and is placing his hand on my heaving chest, nearing my heart. “Your heart is racing” he says faintly and concerned, not knowing whether he wants me to hear that or not.

“Dissociation” I manage, feeling my heart rattle against my rib cage and my lungs fill in-out-in-out-in-out non stop.

“Okay. Just keep your focus on me. I’m alive, I’m breathing, I’m-“

“Wait your voice!!!” I interrupt.

“Don’t be stupid, now listen to me”

“Okay, okay” I say quickly.

He squeezes my hands and in turn I squeeze his even harder, trying so hard to make this stop.

“Remember what we said. If you try too hard, you’ll make it worse. Just breathe and try to let it be and it will be over soon. It always is, you know that.”

“I know, I’m trying.” Shit. I’m trying.

“Babe, just look at me”

“I can’t” I actually can’t. Why can’t I look at him? I don’t want to. Why don’t I want to? I just can’t. It’s... it’s awkward? No it’s scary. I’m scared.

“Why?” He questions, trying to help.

“I’m scared” I shiver, trying to find somewhere to fix my gaze, but everything seems just too far away. “I don’t know why, but I’m scared to look at you” I breathe in and out continuously and fast. I cry. I’m crying so hard. What the fuck am I doing?

“Dall, why are you crying? You never cry. Please, please don’t cry. Come on, you can get through this” his voice is now weak, it’s lacking that strength and clarity that his voice is thickly layered in.

“I’m sorry” I cry. I cry and cry. This is what it feels like to cry. I’ve probably only ever shed tears a few times in my whole life.

He’s giving me a minute, I can tell. He’s giving me my minute to cry. I need this. He’s giving my back gentle strokes and he’s kissing my shoulder a few times.

The sobbing slows itself and I realise that it must be slowing my breathing along with it. 

“Hey, take a deep breath” he now tells me because he knows that I’m able to and he knows that it will help. I gratefully take his reminder and take my shaky hands back to meet Brendon’s. As I push the air into my nostrils and my shoulders down as slow as possible, I hold on tight to his firm grip. I keep the air in my lungs for a few seconds, appreciating the new found stillness I can feel in my body. Letting go, I open my eyes and soften my grip on Brendon’s hands.

“There you go.” He says and wraps his arms round me “Please don’t cry ever again.”

“I swear to god I never cry, I don’t know what that was. I’m sorry.”

“As long as you’re okay now?” He sounds questioning.

“I’m okay. I just... I need fresh air, but we’re stuck in this bus and we’re moving so we can’t just get out. I still feel that residue derealisation. I’ve got to hope to god it doesn’t come back”

“We can stop somewhere” he suggests.

“Isn’t that a bit inconvenient?” I don’t want to piss everyone off.

“No. The guys won’t mind; it won’t make any difference to them. I’ll just ask whoever’s driving to stop when they find the next services.”

I’m not saying no because I’m not having a panic attack again and I’m sure as fuck not crying again. “Thank you so much.”

 

-

 

Brendon and I find ourselves in a McDonald’s ordering for all the guys. When it’s just a stop off, we usually get one of the crew to do it but the whole reason we’re here is so that I can get out of the bus and shake off any left over anxiety. 

Between us, we order a 20 chicken nugget box, two medium fries and two waters. Because we’re gay.

Everyone else is having burgers and raps and shit. We’re having chicken nuggets and neither of us even care.

Of course Spencer and Ian laugh as soon as we get them out and place them in front of us, which they have every right to.

“Yo, you got a problem with chicken nuggets????” Brendon exclaims.

“Nope” Spencer doesn’t even try to hide his grin.

“I think the chicken nuggets have a problem with you” he says and pops one into his mouth, aggressively chewing at it. 

I can’t help but laugh. “I think he’s right. Maybe you can’t handle the chicken nuggets because the chicken nuggets can’t handle you.” 

“Okay what the fuck” Zack interjects and we laugh more. “Clearly Brendon’s weirdness is rubbing off on you”

“Shit” I remark, causing me to receive an offended strong nudge at my side.

Only the guy driving us and Brendon know that I was having a panic attack earlier. Spencer probably put 2 and 2 together, but I’m hoping nobody else was able to. I really don’t want a big scene to be made about it. It’s a big enough scene as it is, just the panic attack.

I wonder whether anyone on this bus has ever had a panic attack, right here and not been able to get off. Fuck no, you would know.

Brendon briefly brushes his hand on my leg to distract me, he’s force pulling me back to reality. One mighty attractive force, he is. Oh my god, if only someone was inside my head right now to hear that joke.

I turn my head the slightest bit, as subtle as I can, and take in his gorgeously carved features. I turn my head back to the food I’m eating but that’s not to say I didn’t take a mental image. All I want to think about is him.


	10. Skin

Him, him him. 

Him all over my skin. Sweat infusing. Breath sharing. Touching with the inability to stop. Our wet lips crossing paths, sliding tounges through. The only time I want my chest to heave is when he’s on my skin; heaving from fucking.

The fresh dew makes each silky touch so easy. My hand is on the small of his back, the ends of my fingers just reaching the little dip in the middle. His hand is in my hair, carding through slowly, being gentle with all of my strands.

Every time he exhales through his nose, I don’t know why, but I feel something in the bottom of my stomach. It’s something mild and happy. Not making me restless.

He rolls off and collapses into the cold, crumpled sheets next to me and I feel I have to get our lips to touch again because he feels the furthest he’s been all night. We’re up in each other’s skin. His skin is my skin; mine is his.

He then turns to check the time and finds it’s 2am. He lets out a content sigh and whispers “good night babe” so I give him the last kiss of the night on his forehead and that signifies a reply.

Lay us down. We’re in love.

Slowly, slowly drifting.

Slowly, slow-

-

Something I enjoy about being on the road is waking up not knowing where the fuck you are. There are two types of people: the ones who, well... feel exactly that, and the ones who feel they must know and therefore do.

I turn to maybe wake Brendon up and ask him where we are, because that’s my signature phrase, but he’s not here and I don’t know what my reaction is supposed to be so I take my phone to maybe-

“Hey, just gone to get breakfast, come and join if you want? If you’re not awake by 10 I’ll just come and wake you ” the message reads.

“Wait” another message reads straight after.

“You’ll be asleep so you won’t be able to read that.”

“Never mind, lol”

I laugh and get up to get changed. “Am I too late, now?” I send.

“No, come down” he replies once I’m dressed, so I leave the room, put my phone and keycard in my pocket and head down the stairs. Fuck elevators, I actually like using my legs.

“Hey!” Spencer says enthusiastically to me when I see him over at the breakfast buffet. 

“Hi,” I reply “you seem happy” I laugh. 

“Dude, can you not see the foooood” and suddenly the line of plates of sausages and eggs and pancakes and more appeals to me.

“I sure can. Where’s the plates?”

He points me over to the plates and waits for me to get one. Then when I’m joined back with him he resumes to put some eggs on his plate. I go for pancakes and bacon.

When we’re done, he walks us to the table where loads of the guys are sat, including Brendon. He smiles and greets me.

Out of all of us Zack must have the most. He’s the one who needs it the most, to stay bulked up.

I dig in to my food and listen in on the conversation of the table, which sounds to me like an argument over who was the most attractive in Nirvana. Obviously it was Kurt Cobain, case closed.

-

“Oh, right. Thanks” I say after finding out we’re in Texas.

So what does that mean... Five more shows? Roughly, maybe. I’m not going to ask because that’s just taking the piss.

I take my glass of water and sit back on the sofa of the dressing room. Next to me is Ian, sipping on a beer, just before we go out on stage. That’s the way to do it. That’s how you do it like a man. 

I sip my water.

“Time to go on guys” we’re informed. 

We gather round in our circle, as we do, and put all our hands in the middle as our ritual. It’s a bit of a joke, but it does somehow keep us from wanting to kill each other after being in each other’s presence for such a long period of time. We’re lucky we’re all actually friends, because I’ve known bands that despise each other. Although it can make bands possibly perform even better when there’s that tension within the bandmates, it’s hardly enjoyable, I’m sure.

“5 more shows. Let’s kill this mother fucker!” Brendon exclaims. Wow, not a bad guess.

I wink at him and he raises his eyebrows playfully just as we get on stage, as I’m putting my guitar strap over my shoulder and as he’s taking his microphone out of the stand to give our introduction.

If I weren’t his long-term boyfriend I could have had him done for molestation in that show.

I loved every bit of it, nonetheless.

Such a tease.

We get off the stage and I tell him to come to the restroom with me, so he does. Good boy.

“I swear to fucking god” I say when we’re both locked in a stall together. We start kissing desperately. His mouth is in that dirty shape. He has two types of kissing mouths, I’ve noticed. The loving one, the sweet, pretty, gentle one, where his lips are more round, curved and there’s a soft focus on our lips more than anything. Then there’s that fucking sexy, dirty one, where his mouth is more wide in the vertical scale, and you can see his teeth. It’s gritty and there’s so much tongue. A stiff tongue. It’s like we’re attacking each other’s mouths, but attacking for pleasure.

He better fuck me right this instant.


	11. On The Brink Of The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter for Part Two of the series “Always A Hurricane”. Keep your eyes peeled for Part Three, which I’m hoping to write soon!

“Go on, babe! God just push it in, already!” I yell as he hovers over my entrance.

He’s not done teasing yet, I know.

He gives me one last share of his mouth in mine and, to my surprise, turns me around this time. “I want to fuck you like a slut tonight.” That’s why. God, I miss this - the rough sex and the carelessness.

He grabs my ass and I groan, “Come the fuck on!” I’m practically begging at this point.

Finally, my orders are taken and I can feel myself filling up with Brendon’s thick cock. “You dirty man” he calls me in a rough voice after I start whimpering, wanting him to just get going already.

We pick up a rhythm, me pushing back into him and him pushing forwards into me with perfect timing. It feels so, so good.

I’m about to speak, but Brendon takes one of his sweaty, salty hands and covers my mouth, informing me “whores don’t talk while doing the dirty.” I don’t know whether he knows how much this is turning me on: more than it should, that is. Of course he knows; he could get me off in thirty fucking seconds, without a doubt.

“Come on, bend those hips of yours for me” I’m told and I do so. I bend over and take it like a slut and love every second of it.

-

“Don’t ever deny the fact that you adore me calling you a slut” he whispers in my ear as we walk into the bus and I swear to god I might have had to kill him if he’d whispered that any louder or any later than right in that moment.

The first person we’re greeted by is Tony, “Where the fuck have you two been?” Ahh, what a sweet, loving greeting. Brendon just laughs and apologises. We must have lost track of time, caught up in an alternate universe where I’m a slut and he’s got me pinned against the wall, fucking me from behind.

Spencer laughs and looks at us as though he knows all of our secrets, but he doesn’t know the half of it. He knows that we fucked though.

When the bus gets going, we do our thing, using our best attempts to entertain ourselves. Brendon seems bored and irritable, and all I want to do is just sit and stare at a wall in all honesty. I can’t be bothered.

He must get the picture because he’s gone off to play poker with Ian and some of the crew.

-

“I swear to god, he was just like this, just, like, this, before he tried... he tried... oh for fuck’s sake Spencer you know what I’m going to say. Before he tried to kill himself.” 

What the fuck.

No, what the fuck. What did I just hear? What was I about to walk int-

“Like what?” Spencer’s asking with caution and thought.

“Like he was... just a bit... not with it. Detached. I can’t have him do this again. I can’t, Spencer. I can’t.” He’s sobbing so hard; I can hear it through the door separating the bunks from the lounge. I was just about to open the door when I heard the conversation. I can’t open the door now, can I. I guess I’ll just stay here, then.

I crawl back into my bunk with caution.

Detached? What is he talking about? What the fuck. He thinks I’m going to kill myself.

Shit.

He really thinks that?

That’s so not f-

That’s, that’s-

I’m going to fall asl-

Drift, drift.

-

It’s 5am and I’m already awake. My body knows there’s something bothering me, clearly, because all I usually do is sleep. Sleep to the very bone as much as I can. And I’m not asleep. And it’s 5am. 

Now’s the chance to speak to Brendon whilst nobody else will hear. I really don’t even want to, because I know how this will go. It’s inevitable that there’s going to be some kind of heartbreak and tears. Though nothing irreparable, I hope. Just something to dread.

I slide the curtain to Brendon’s bed and hear faint snores coming from his resting head. I don’t want to wake this poor, innocent beauty.

I have to wake him up though, and I think that part of him subconsciously wants me to. Wants me to come and tell him what the fuck is going on.

“Dallon?” He says as he’s coming awake.

“Yeah, can we go and talk on the sofas?” My voice is worried, even I can tell. 

“Yeah, yeah sure.”

He rubs his eyes and gets up to follow me. We sit down and he’s now got a questioning look smothering his face.

“Brendon... I heard you. I hear what you were saying last night. Or at least just... a bit. Why do you think I’m going to...” I swallow because for this whole tour I’ve been acting like it never happened.

“You’re acting just like you were for the whole week before you... tried. In fact you had three whole weeks without a panic attack. You haven’t had a panic attack since, God, since we were on the way to Wisconsin. That was three weeks ago. You’ve had no sense of where we are and it’s worrying. It’s so worrying. Last time I didn’t even realise how detached you were becoming, I thought you were getting better, but it wasn’t until after you closed your eyes to take a deep breath, but you fell to the ground instead and hit your head against the tiles. It wasn’t until after that, that I realised there was a problem. I’m not letting that happen again. We’ve come so far and we’re not stopping here.”

“I swear, that is not what it’s like at all. Bren, we’re on tour, of course I’m not going to have a clue where we are. You’re saying we’ve come so far, but you’re saying you’re worried because I haven’t had a panic attack in two weeks. I’ve came far enough to not be having so many, and maybe I was having a rough week. So maybe I had more panic attacks for a little while, but that was just a fluke. I’m not giving up. I’ve not had one suicidal thought since I swallowed all those pills and it’s not going to be like the cutting incident when you mentioned it and I started doing it again because the biggest lesson I have ever learned is the lesson on killing yourself. Death chases you; you don’t chase death. Don’t let it catch you. That’s what death wants. When I was on the brink of death, that one second before I fell, I saw your face and the last thing I felt before I fell into unconsciousness was regret. I don’t want to die just yet. I want to hear your laugh as many times as possible. I want to see your smile as many times as possible. And I want to do everything with you as much as possible.”

**Author's Note:**

> eek, I hope you like. there will be more frequent and regular updates for this story, so make sure you stay tuned. thanks again, Nicole. xx


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